Harry Potter and the Phoenix's Wolf
by Darth Taegous
Summary: When Vernon tells Harry to get out, Harry complies... with unexpected results involving a certain werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. Order of the Phoenix alternate universe. Rating just to be safe for minor violence. NO slash, no pairings. Ch. 6 up!
1. Escape from the Dursleys

**Author's Note**: OK, before you begin to read the story, there are a few things that require explanation. Don't worry, I won't keep you long. In this version of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, there is no Umbridge because I just don't like her and she would conflict with the storyline. The dementors at the beginning of the book were sent by Voldemort, just as everyone suspected. I also have several run-on sentences. Those were placed there on purpose to mimic the way people's thoughts run through their heads during intense scenes. Without further ado, on with the story!

Oh, and please review. That's what that little button down at the bottom of the page is for. Remember: I update faster the more reviews I get. I _love_ constructive criticism, but _please_ don't flame. It's pointless and does nothing to improve the story for anyone. Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers, I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 1: Escape from the Dursleys**

"I see," said Uncle Vernon, looking from his white-faced wife to Harry and hitching up his trousers. He seemed to be swelling, his great purple face stretching before Harry's eyes. "Well, that settles it," he said, his shirt front straining as he inflated himself, _"you can get out of this house, boy!"_

"What?" said Harry.

"You heard me-- OUT!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, and even Aunt Petunia and Dudley jumped. "OUT! OUT! I should have done it years ago! Owls treating the place like a rest home, puddings exploding, half the lounge destroyed, Dudley's tail, Marge bobbing around on the ceiling, and that flying Ford Anglia-- OUT! OUT! You've had it! You're history! You're not staying here if some loony's after you, you're not endangering my wife and son, you're not bringing trouble down on us, if you're going the same way as your useless parents, I've had it! OUT!"

Harry stood rooted to the spot. The letters from the Ministry, Mr. Weasley, and Sirius were crushed in his left hand. _Don't leave the house again, whatever you do._ _DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE._

"You heard me!" said Uncle Vernon, bending forward now, so that his massive purple face came closer to Harry's, so that Harry actually felt flecks of spit hit his face. "Get going! You were all keen to leave half an hour ago! I'm right behind you! Get out and never darken our doorstep again! Why we ever kept you in the first place I don't know, Marge was right, it should have been the orphanage, we were too damn soft for our own good, thought we could squash it out of you, thought we could turn you normal, but you've been rotten from the beginning, and I've had enough-- OWLS!"

A fifth owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it actually hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a large screech. Harry raised his hand to seize the letter, which was in a scarlet envelope, but it soared straight over his head, flying directly at Aunt Petunia, who let out a scream and ducked, her arms over her face. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew straight up the chimney again.

Harry looked at the letter, then seized the opportunity to turn and run out of the kitchen. As though through a haze, he heard Uncle Vernon roar behind him, "Let go of it, Petunia! Don't touch it, it could be dangerous!" But Harry was already up the stairs and throwing all of his supplies into his trunk.

He snapped the lid of his trunk shut, put his wand in his back pocket, grabbed the handle of the trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other. He was halfway down the stairs when the Howler exploded.

_"REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA."_

Putting on a last burst of speed, Harry wrenched the front door open and ran out into the night. Cool air hit his face as he practically ran to the street, turning right along Privet Drive and ignoring the shouts of "COME BACK HERE, BOY!" behind him. There was no reason for him to stay here-- he doubted that even Dumbledore would be able to sort out this mess. The only thing left for him to do was to go somewhere-- anywhere-- and hide.

Harry continued to walk until, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk, he found himself once again collapsing onto the same low brick wall that he had sat on two years earlier when running from the Dursleys after blowing up Aunt Marge.

Sighing, Harry leaned back and rubbed his temples. He would just have to do what he had planned on those two years ago: bewitch his trunk to be feather-light, tie it to his broomstick, cover himself in his invisibility cloak, and fly to London. There he would get the rest of his money out of his vault at Gringott's and begin his life as an outcast.

The prospect didn't sound any less horrifying than it had two years earlier.

Harry moved Hedwig's cage from his lap to the wall beside him and pulled open his trunk, searching for the invisibility cloak. After only a few seconds of searching, though, Harry straightened up once more. A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made him feel he was being watched, strangely similar to when he was thirteen. Once again, however, the street appeared to be deserted.

He turned to the gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Once again, exactly like two years ago, there was the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.

"_Sirius?_" Harry tentatively asked, instinctively stumbling backward when the figure growled, low and menacing. "I thought not…" Harry stepped back into the street, and the figure followed, pawing out into the moonlight.

Harry's blood froze. Of course-- Voldemort wouldn't just have sent dementors. He would have wanted to make sure that something got Harry… and tonight just happened to be a full moon. A werewolf.

Harry scrambled to get his wand out his back pocket-- it wasn't there. It must have fallen out in his rush to get away from the Dursleys. "Oh, bloody hell…" Harry turned and did the only thing he could do; he ran.

He had always been a fast runner; years of being chased by Dudley's gang had conditioned him for it. He had also outrun a werewolf once before-- Lupin, in his third year-- but this time he didn't have Hagrid's hut to run into. Even Harry knew that he couldn't outrun a full-grown werewolf in a straight stretch.

Gasping for breath, Harry ran, but he could hear the werewolf getting closer behind him, paws pounding on the asphalt. He didn't look behind him-- to do so was to see just how close the werewolf was, and Harry didn't want to know.

A dark alleyway between two houses drew close up ahead-- it could be a dead end, but Harry would have to risk it. He could hear the werewolf close behind him, and to keep running forward was to be attacked, killed. Turning at the last minute, Harry nearly lost his balance, but his hands grasped the side of one house and pulled to help him turn. The werewolf skidded past behind him, but Harry knew it wouldn't take long for it to turn too.

Only after the turn did Harry look to the end of the alleyway. A dead end. There were some trash bins at the end, though, and if he could scramble up on those then he might be able to make it over the brick wall. With a running leap, Harry jumped for the trash bins just as the werewolf charged down alleyway at full speed.

The trash bins tilted as his feet hit them, tipping over, his hands brushed the top of the brick wall, he was almost safe…

And then the werewolf knocked Harry's legs out from under him, ripping jeans and skin with razor-sharp claws and pulling him away from his only escape. Harry hit the pavement hard and heard a crash as glasses that had fallen from his face during the fall smashed underneath him. A big blurry outline above him reared back for a bite to his neck. Harry rolled away just as the jaws came down where his neck would have been, throwing up his arm instinctively to protect his face as the blurry figure moved to bite again…

Harry felt sharp teeth break the skin of his forearm, scraping bone, and screamed. Red filled his vision. Growling, the werewolf raised its huge, clawed paw for a fatal blow--

_"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

With a surprised yelp of pain, the werewolf was thrown backward into the garbage bins. The red in Harry's vision was slowly being replaced by black as he clutched his injured arm to his chest. Dark blood stained his shirt. Faintly, as though from very far away, Harry heard the sounds of several people enter the alleyway, saying spells that jumbled in his mind, chasing the werewolf into the street, _"don't let him get away, we can catch him this time!"_

_"Harry, did he bite you?" _

_"We need to get him to St. Mungo's immediately…"_

_"I'll apparate him there, there's no time to lose…"_

Harry felt someone take hold of his shoulder. _"Hold on, Harry, you'll be alright."_ There was a tight feeling, as though Harry was being squeezed from every direction at once. His head felt very light, he was floating…

With a final burst of red, Harry was blasted into black oblivion.


	2. St Mungo's

**Author's Note:** Here's the second chapter, and I have to admit it's up a bit sooner than I thought it would be. I woke up at 7:30 this morning and just had to finish it. XD Anyways, hope you enjoy the new chapter, because I had fun writing it!

Oh, and please review. That's what that little button down at the bottom of the page is for. Remember: I update faster the more reviews I get. I _love_ constructive criticism, but _please_ don't flame. It's pointless and does nothing to improve the story for anyone. Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers, I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes/titles are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 2: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**

Harry was flying through the air on his Firebolt, the wind blowing his raven-colored hair back and away from his eyes. The sky was perfectly clear, and the ground could barely be seen. It was so far below him… everything blurred together in one large, pleasantly green mass. In the distance, he could see the ocean glittering on the horizon.

He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying the rush of the wind. He felt so free, without a care in the world. Going into a quick loop, Harry laughed as he raced toward the ground, the sun shining bright above him.

Then, suddenly, Mrs. Weasley was beside him on a flying vacuum. "Harry, dear, you need to eat more. You're skin and bones! Here, have some onion soup… and some bread. Yes, eat some bread. That will put some meat on your bones."

Out of nowhere, a Hungarian Horntail flew up to greet Harry as he pulled out of his dive, holding out a steaming bowl of onion broth and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Strange, thought Harry, that none of this seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, that onion soup looked very good indeed.

Harry reached out to take the onion soup, but suddenly realized that his right arm was wrapped in some sort of thick bandage so that he couldn't move it at all. Strange, he thought he had been using it only a moment before… looking down, Harry realized that he also seemed to be wearing some sort of white hospital gown that had a nice, light blue floral pattern.

Then a large gust of wind sent Harry's broomstick spinning, and without the use of his right arm he flew off the broomstick and into the sky. The ground was rushing towards him, and Mrs. Weasley was calling from far above that Harry hadn't finished his onion soup yet, where was he going, and would he like a cup of tea to go with that.

The sky wasn't so blue anymore; in fact it was a quite bland, dull shade of grey. Harry could see the branches of the trees too, and they weren't even green now. The twisted, black branches reached up towards him, waving. Was it from the wind, or were they moving on their own?

At any rate, it didn't matter any more because Harry had just realized that he had forgotten Hedwig's cage back at the brick wall. And what was he wrapped in now? His invisibility cloak? The world around him was slowly turning white, and whatever was on him was wrapped very tightly indeed, almost like the lethifolds that Professor Lupin had taught the class about in Harry's third year.

And then, with a sudden fading away of the white around him, Harry opened his eyes to what appeared to be a blurry ceiling. He seemed to be in a comfortable bed, and was wrapped tightly in a warm sheet.

"What?" Harry muttered, confused. Where was his onion soup? And then everything rushed back to him-- running away from the Dursleys, the werewolf, being chased down the alley, the attack… and the bite.

Well, that would explain the bandage and the hospital gown, at any rate. Wrestling with the sheet, Harry struggled to sit up and look around him. Most of the light came from shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling, though there was what seemed to be (Harry couldn't really tell without his glasses) a narrow window set high in the wall facing the door. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a large portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall across from Harry's bed; there was some sort of caption under the portrait, but it was too blurry for Harry to read.

"Hedwig!" A sturdy brass cage was sitting on the bedside table, with Hedwig safe inside. Hedwig hooted softly, then fluffed out her feathers. She looked Harry straight in the eye, clacking her beak. "Yes, I'm sorry for leaving you behind, though it's not like I really had a choice…" Harry told her quietly, looking down at his bandaged arm and then forcing himself away from that realm of thought.

Something else sat on the table also, though. Harry reached out and grabbed it-- his glasses! Someone must have found and repaired them. Harry placed them on his head, and the room suddenly became a lot clearer. He could even read the caption on the portrait across the room now-- URQUHART RACKHARROW, 1612-1697, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE.

There was also a chair conveniently stacked with fluffy white pillows on the left side of his bed. Harry grabbed some of the pillows and stacked them behind him. He didn't feel much for laying back down or sleeping (he felt as though he'd done enough of that already) but did want to sit up so he could think properly.

He had just finished positioning the pillows comfortably when the room door opened slightly. Someone must have tripped in the hallway, because Harry heard a strange _thunk_ followed by a loud "Ouch!" Someone outside started whispering-- strangely enough, he could hear whoever it was even all this way across the room.

"_Quiet, _Ron! We're supposed to let Harry sleep as long as he needs…"

"Like I can help it if someone's gone and left a bloody dressing gown on the floor… I'd swear it wrapped itself around my feet and tripped me on _purpose_."

"Ron, both you and I know that's perfectly ridiculous. Now come on-- people are looking at you strangely."

Harry smiled as the door opened completely and Hermione stepped through, followed by an angrily muttering Ron. Harry looked to both of them and said rather loudly, "No need to be quiet, I'm perfectly awake."

"Harry, you're okay!" Hermione rushed forward to Harry's bed (which happened to be on the far side of the room), closely tailed by Ron. The loud exclamation did seem to wake up the single other patient in the room, though ("Do you _mind_?"). Sheepishly, Hermione turned to him and squeaked, "Sorry," before turning back to Harry. "Dumbledore told us what happened… Harry, everyone's just so glad that you're _alive_…"

"Yeah, mate," Ron said, looking at Harry. There seemed to be a large bruise forming on his forehead. "We're all (that is, my family, Hermione an-- and Lupin) staying at Gri--"

At this point, Hermione said, "Ron!" and looked at him pointedly. Harry glanced between them, confused.

"Oops, sorry," Ron said, flushing beet red, "I mean Padfoot's place while you're here. They say you'll be able to leave before school starts again, though."

"Harry, you've been asleep for _days_." Hermione's voice sounded strained.

"Oh," was all Harry could say. His thoughts were wandering to Lupin.

"Would you like me to get everyone else, Harry? They're all waiting in the hallway… except for Lupin. He says he'll come by later, but he's at an important meeting right now." Hermione offered, looking worried.

"Sure," Harry said, his voice cracking just slightly as he forced his thoughts back into focus. Hermione turned and walked out the door. An awkward silence stretched between Ron and Harry (who looked at the portrait of Urquhart like it was the most interesting thing in the world until it stated quite loudly, "_It's rude to stare!_"), but was thankfully broken when Mrs. Weasley came rushing through the door.

"Harry, dear! How are you doing?" Without even waiting for an answer, she smothered Harry in a bone-crushing hug until he managed to squeak, "My arm!" at which point she quickly backed off. After getting a breath, Harry managed to say, "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."

Fred and George popped up next to Harry's bed.

"Hey, mate--" said George.

"Glad you're--" continued Fred.

"Doing better," they both finished together.

"Glad to be in here now, though. Everyone in the hallway's in a tizzy--"

"Rushing back and forth, general mayhem, you know. Apparently--"

"Someone's gone and cursed a dressing gown to slither around the floor--"

"And grab people's feet as they walk by."

"Pity we didn't think of it, really. It's quite funny."

Ron looked at Hermione forcefully, who pointedly ignored him. Harry barely managed to suppress his laughter, but couldn't help grinning. "Where are Ginny and Mr. Weasley?"

"I think they've gone off to get everyone food… I hope so, anyway. I suppose Arthur could have gone chasing after that dressing gown…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off, looking pensive. "Lupin said to tell you that he'll be by later to discuss… options… for the school year. He's in a meeting for the Order right now. There are also a few aurors who wish to meet you… ask you a few questions, about the werewolf, you know…" Mrs. Weasley looked suddenly uncomfortable. "I suppose I'd better go look for Arthur and Ginny. Ron, Fred, George-- _behave yourselves_." With that, Mrs. Weasley stalked out the door.

Harry watched her leave, then felt a sudden spike of panic as he remembered something. "My wand!"

"Oh, that's right!" said Hermione, who promptly started digging around in her pack. "Tonks found it when they were chasing the werewolf… she told me to give it to you." Hermione triumphantly pulled out the wand, handing it to Harry who took it gratefully.

"Who's Tonks?" asked Harry, curious.

"She's an auror, and a metamorphagus too, it's really cool--" cut in Ron.

"Wait-- a what?" asked Harry.

"A metamorphagus," said Hermione, "It means she can change her appearance at will. Mostly she changes her hair, though a few nights ago at dinner she provided some entertainment by changing her nose… she'll be coming at some point today, I think, with the other aurors."

"Cool," said Harry, grinning. "Can't wait to meet her."

The five of them (Fred and George were still there too) continued to talk well into midmorning until Harry forgot all about werewolves. After an unidentified amount of time, a nurse walked in and asked Harry if he would like anything to eat.

"Yes, please, I'm starved," said Harry, smiling, "Do you suppose I could have some onion soup?"


	3. Talk Between Wolves

**Author's Note: **…And it's finally updated! Sorry for the bit of a wait, but I had more homework than expected and unfortunately grades come before fanfiction. Anyways, it doesn't matter now. For those of you who were waiting for Lupin to appear, the wait is over! You'll get plenty of him in this chapter. :) Hope you enjoy!

Once again, please review. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please no flaming. Thanks!

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers, I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes/titles are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 3: Talk Between Wolves and Arrival of the Aurors**

Harry sat on his comfortable, white-sheeted bed in St. Mungo's. His third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts book lay open in his lap, pages turned to the very back chapter. Ron and Hermione had gone back to Sirus's house for the day, so Harry had been left to rest.

Which, of course, he planned not to do. Hermione and Ron had brought Harry a few books to read so he wouldn't get bored, and someone had thrown in his third-year DADA textbook. Doubtless, they knew that he would want more information on lycanthrope, especially since Harry hadn't paid much attention to it when Snape, while subbing for Lupin, made everyone write an essay on how to identify and kill werewolves.

Unfortunately, as Harry was also discovering, the textbook provided very little information useful once you actually were one. Harry sighed and slapped the book shut, then threw it onto his bedside table. Maybe he should get some sleep… then again, Lupin was due to arrive any time now.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the ward door open. Looking up, Harry saw a sandy-haired man in rather ragged-looking clothes stick his head through. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more gray hair than when Harry had said good-bye to him, and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. "Hello, Professor," said Harry, sitting up more against his pillows.

"Harry," said Lupin softly, then opened the door completely and walked over to Harry's bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," replied Harry, trying to sound as though he wasn't apprehensive at all and merely glad that Lupin had come. He could smell the familiarity of Lupin, and there was something about it that said _wolf_. "So… did they catch the werewolf?"

"No one's told you?" Lupin asked, looking surprised. "I would have thought they had… unfortunately, he managed to fight his way away just when the aurors had him cornered. Gave a fair few of them some pretty nasty scratches, but no one else was bitten. They think the werewolf was Fenrir Greyback. You won't know who he is, of course…" Lupin sighed, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly as he sat down on one of the chairs next to Harry's bed.

"Oh," said Harry. A silence stretched between the two of them, which was finally broken by Lupin.

"Harry, I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this," he said, his voice sounding strained. "If I had known he'd send Greyback after you... well, I suppose that doesn't matter now. I'm just thankful that we had people from the Order following you…" Noticing Harry's questioning gaze, Lupin indicated the other occupant of the room, who was apparently asleep and snoring rather loudly-- almost too loud to be natural. His look said clearly, _I'll tell you later_. Lupin's gaze drifted to the Defense Against the Dark Arts book on the table, and he gestured towards it with his hand. "Have you found anything useful?"

"Nothing except how to defend me against myself," said Harry, smiling slightly, "It's ironic, really. We never did get to that chapter when you were teaching."

Lupin chuckled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I should have known. Professor Snape wouldn't have assigned you to read anything that showed us in a good light, would he…"

Well, I suppose I'd better tell you what to expect. I suppose you've already noticed the increase in your hearing and smell."

"Yeah," said Harry, "The smell especially… I knew that werewolves had a good sense of smell, but I didn't know that it applied to the human form, too. It's kind of odd… I can _smell_ that you're like me."

Lupin laughed, "Yes, that is one of the small plusses to this condition, I suppose. It can be quite useful at times, but when you first go into Hogwarts it can be more than a tad overwhelming."

Harry smiled, "I can imagine."

"You'll get used to it in time, though," Lupin said, then looked at Harry's arm. "I'm afraid that bite will never completely heal… there will be some nasty scarring later, but your school robes should cover it sufficiently for no one to take notice. If it bothers you too much, though, we could always cover it with a glamour charm. Now,about the transformation…"

"The Shrieking Shack?" asked Harry, more than a little apprehensive. He didn't have fond memories of that place.

"I'm afraid not," said Lupin, this time smiling. Harry looked at him, confused.

"But where else is there to go…?"

"Well, you see," said a grinning Lupin, "Dumbledore has pulled a few strings at the Ministry, and he's had it arranged it so that I can come back again next year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…"

"That's great!" exclaimed Harry, grinning.

"…_and_ I can bring along my dog."

"Your dog?" Harry asked, confused. Since when had Lupin had a… "Padfoot!" Harry was grinning from ear to ear now, and suddenly the transformation didn't seem so bad any more.

"Correct," said Lupin, "Professor Snape will be making a Wolvesbane Potion for the both of us, so we'll be able to safely transform in my office. Padfoot will be there with us, and Buckbeak will go back to Hagrid with a different name. Dumbledore has already told the other professors about your condition, and is going to make sure that no quidditch matches or anything happen any of the days around the full moon.

"We're going to keep this secret from the other students as long as possible, but with you disappearing the same days I do…" Lupin gained a disgusted expression, "We may not be able to keep the secret long, especially if the Daily Prophet gets a whiff of it."

"At least we won't have to worry about Rita Skeeter," said Harry absentmindedly, remembering when, at the end of last year, Hermione had discovered Rita's illegal animagus form and threatened to let the secret out if she didn't stop writing horrible articles about Harry in the _Prophet_.

"Why not?" Lupin looked suspicious.

"No reason," said Harry quickly, then changed the subject, "I really don't care if they do know, people would figure it out on their own sooner or later anyway."

"The problem, though, Harry, is that… well, wizards don't think very highly of werewolves. My position at Hogwarts two years ago, however short, was the first real job that I'd had in years. Most employers either tell you outright to leave or find some other, less obvious way to keep you from getting a job there. I've been told that places weren't hiring even though the sign that said they were was right out front." Lupin was looking worn-down again. "And the other students might be just as bad… or worse."

"Yeah, I can see them doing something like that," said Harry, disgusted, "In my second year there were plenty of students who were convinced I was going to kill them all just because they found out I was a Parseltongue."

"And that's where the problem arises," said Lupin kindly, "People… well, people don't like to see who you are beneath the surface. When they find out that you're a werewolf, that's all they see. They're convinced that you're Dark and dangerous, and don't even consider for a moment that you might not be.

"You'll have difficulty finding employment your entire life, Harry, though I'm sure Dumbledore could get you a position at Hogwarts. The only problem there is the angry letters from parents who are convinced that your one motive in life is to attack their children. I'm sure to get plenty of those once word gets out that I'm back at Hogwarts, and you might too if the parents find out about your--"

"Furry little problem?" asked Harry, smiling.

Lupin laughed, "Yes, your 'furry little problem.' We can use that to refer to it, just like Padfoot and Prongs used to when in company."

"Now, your first transformation will be the worst, but after that it won't hurt as much. The Wolvesbane potion will allow you to keep your head while you're transformed, so it should be almost as if you were an animagus. It will also help to be with another werewolf and a large dog-- the wolf will consider itself to belong to a 'pack' and shouldn't resort to biting and clawing itself out of loneliness."

"Good," said Harry, though he didn't like the sound of the transformation being painful…

"And if you transform with a pack, your inner wolf won't feel the need to pop up at unexpected moments and ruin what would otherwise have been a perfectly good day. For instance, when you're eating dinner-- you'll probably notice a greater liking for meat that's cooked very rare, but when the wolf has a pack it most likely won't feel the need push itself out during the meal and cause you to rip into the food with your face. That happened to me once. It was very embarrassing."

Harry tried to suppress his laughter at the image of Lupin ravenously eating with his face, but failed miserably.

"Yes, Padfoot and Prongs thought so, too," said Lupin, who also couldn't help laughing at the memory. "I think I hear someone out in the hallway. It's probably the aurors wanting to ask about Greyback, though I don't suppose you know anything other than where he was."

Harry frowned, "No, just that he was exactly where Padfoot was two years ago."

Lupin looked thoughtful for a moment, "I'll go bring them in-- Harry, would you like me to leave or stay here?"

"Stay here, please," said Harry. He didn't think he knew any of these aurors (he's only heard about Tonks) and would rather have someone familiar in the room.

Lupin nodded, then walked to the door. Sticking his head out, Harry heard him call into the hallway, "Ah, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley! Harry's awake, you can come on in," and then, in a lower voice, "If you're asking about Greyback, though, he doesn't know anything other than where he was at the time of the attack."

A wheezy voice that Harry would recognize anywhere as Mad-Eye Moody's answered, "Not so much worried about Greyback as we are what else attacked him. Harry used a Patronus charm, and if there were dementors that wandered away from Azkaban…"

"Yes, that is something to worry about," said Lupin in a concerned voice, "But come in, you can ask Harry for yourselves. We're not much use standing around out here in the corridor."

Lupin stepped back through the ward door, followed by a witch with a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a bubblegum pink. Harry assumed that must be Tonks. After Tonks came Moody, his large, electric blue eye that could see through walls and doors spinning crazily in its socket, and the last person who Harry thought must be Kingsley, a bald black wizard who wore a single gold hoop in his ear.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said Tonks, "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," said Kingsley; he had a slow, deep voice. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," said Moody in his wheezy voice, "Lily's eyes."

Harry blushed uncomfortably; he didn't like it when people talked about him.

Lupin sensed his discomfort and stepped forward, "This is Alastor Moody, Harry," he said, pointing toward Moody.

"Yeah, I know," said Harry; it felt odd to be introduced to somebody he'd thought he'd known for a year.

"And this is Nymphadora--"

"_Don't_ call me Nymphadora, Remus," said the young witch with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," finished Lupin.

"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,'" muttered Tonks.

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," he indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed.

Harry inclined his head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they would look at something other than him; it was as though he had suddenly been ushered onstage.

"They're here to ask you about what happened a few nights ago," finished Lupin.

"We know that you produced a Patronus in front of your muggle cousin," Kingsley started, and Harry winced. He had almost forgotten about the letter he'd gotten from the Ministry. Kingsley seemed to notice, because he then said, "But all charges of misuse of magic have been lifted-- considering the circumstances, the Ministry has decided you had perfect rights to use it--" (at his point Harry heaved a sigh of great relief) "-- but Patronus spells aren't normally used against werewolves, and it was cast before you left your aunt and uncle's house for the second time."

"I used it because of the dementors," said Harry, then mentally smacked himself for not telling anyone about them before then, "There were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin."

"We were afraid of that," wheezed Mad-Eye, "Dementors don't run around and attack people on their own-- they have to take orders. If He's gotten control of them…" Moody trailed off, giving everyone time to think about what might happen. After a few seconds of silence, Tonks cut in.

"Not a very pleasant thought, that, is it?" she said, then continued, "They knew exactly where you were, then, Harry? No searching?"

"As far as I know, they knew exactly where I was going to be," Harry said, shivering at the memory.

"And after escaping the dementors, you left the house again?" Kingsley asked slowly, looking right at Harry who looked away, embarrassed.

"I… wasn't thinking," muttered Harry, "My uncle yelled at me to go, and I was sure he wouldn't allow me in the house for another minute before… I don't know, attacking me or something."

"What have I (well, maybe not me, but close enough) told you, boy?" growled Moody, "If I have to tell you once, I'll tell you again-- CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Everyone jumped, and the other patient in the room jerked awake and nearly fell onto the floor.

"Is that really necessary, Mad-Eye?" asked Tonks, rubbing her ears.

"It is if no one's going to listen to it the first five hundred times!"

"I thought you were here to ask questions, not lecture, Moody," said Lupin with an amused glint in his eye.

"All right, then. Do you remember where you were when the werewolf attacked, Harry?" Moody's eye was swiveling around in its socket again; Harry found it rather distracting.

"It's a few blocks from the Dursleys' house, there's a low stone wall there in front of a gap between houses. The werewolf was hiding in there. I don't know if he knew that I was going to be there, but it was probably just chance. I didn't even know where I was going when I left the Dursleys'."

"All right, then," said Kingsley, who had been writing everything down on a slip of parchment.

Just at that moment, a nurse came in. "Visiting time is over-- it's nearly eight o' clock, and both patients in this room need _rest._"

Harry, who was not at all tired, started to protest, but Lupin interrupted him. "She's right, Harry. You need to sleep. We'll be back tomorrow, and you'll be able to leave here and go to Padfoot's house by the end of the week. Good-bye, Harry."

"Bye," said Harry as the nurse shooed them out the door and then turned the lights off. Harry didn't feel tired at all. In the dark, he lay down against his pillows and listened to the nurse walking away down the hallway, and once she was gone, it seemed that he lay there for a very long time listening to the sounds outside his window; a frog croaking somewhere, a couple of birds in a scuffle over something or other…

The next thing he knew, he was curled in a warm ball under his bedclothes, and light was pouring in through the small window high in the paneled oak-wood wall.


	4. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

**Author's Note:** Chapter four is FINALLY finished! Sorry about the long wait, but I had extreme writer's block and only just managed to unblock my brain. Hopefully the next chapter will show up sooner than this one did, and I plan to make it longer, too. Please review-- they make me update faster, and **I love constructive criticism**. No flaming, though, please. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the next chappie:)

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers, I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 4: Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place**

The rest of the week flew by quickly, and before Harry knew it he was preparing to leave with Lupin and Moody. Ron and Hermione weren't there, but when Harry asked where they were, Lupin replied, "Molly's gone and press-ganged them, Fred, and George into helping to clean every last inch of Padfoot's house."

Harry's wound had almost completely healed on its own at this point, too. He still had to replace the bandage and rub in a special ointment every morning and afternoon, but the puncture marks were slowly filling in with new skin and the gashes weren't so red and inflamed around the edges.

So, Harry now found himself throwing the last of his books into his bag (including one titled _Living With Your Inner Wolf _ that Lupin had given him only a few days before and Harry had been reading ever since) and tossing an excited Hedwig an owl treat to calm her.

All in all, other than the fact that his eyes now had the unnerving ability to glint amber in certain light and the fact that no matter how many lights were off in the room he could always see as if it were day, Harry hadn't noticed much difference from the first day he had woken up in the hospital. Unfortunately, noises and smells were bothering him worse than ever.

"You'll become used to it in time, Harry," said Lupin as a man whose nose kept whistling like a very loud tea kettle passed by the hall door, causing Harry to grimace in pain; every time he heard a loud noise, Harry felt as if twin needles were puncturing his eardrums. He had also begun to notice the smell of various people, even if they only passed by. Those who were ill smelled sickly sweet, while those who were healthy each had their own scent that they created through their diet, how much exercise they got, what they did for a living, and how often they bathed. Harry found it rather disgusting.

At long last, though, Harry was going to see Sirius! Something deep within his brain couldn't wait to be with his complete pack, and Harry felt as though if he had a tail he would wag it.

After all his belongings were gathered, Lupin and Moody led the way out the ward door, followed closely by Harry. On the way out Harry found it very difficult not to stare at all the people with varying conditions, especially a man who appeared to have a dragon's tail growing out the back of his skull. As soon as they had reached the front room, though, Lupin and Moody stopped.

"We'll be apparating from here, with you doing side-along apparition with Lupin," said Moody, his magical eye rolling to look through the back of his head as he spoke, "We're taking the zigzag path-- we'll make stops in several places on the way, so just hold on to Lupin's arm and don't worry about where we're going." His voice lowered, and his eye started swiveling in every direction, apparently making sure that no one was nearby or eavesdropping. "When we get to where we're going, I'll hand you a slip of paper. Memorize what's on it fast, because I'll have to destroy it afterwards."

"Right," said Harry, acting as though he wasn't slightly confused.

"Take my arm, then, Harry," said Lupin as Harry did so. "Brace yourself, this will be slightly unpleasant. You've done it once before to get here, but I daresay that you might not remember. I'll count down and when I reach zero, take a turn to your left. Got it? Right, then. Oh, and _don't let go_. Three, two, one…"

Harry turned, holding tightly to Lupin's arm as he felt it nearly twist out of his grasp. Suddenly, every part of Harry felt as if it were being compressed, as if he were being squeezed through a tube. He couldn't breathe, and his head felt as if it were going to implode; his eyeballs were being shoved back into his skull and his eardrums were being viciously jammed into his brain… Just when Harry thought that he couldn't stand the pressure any more, he was suddenly standing in front of the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade with Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry took a deep, gasping breath, and he had never before been so grateful to pull air into his lungs-- except maybe at the end of the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. As soon as he got his breath back, Harry turned to Lupin and frowned. "That was… unpleasant."

Lupin laughed, "I don't like it much either."

At this point, Mad-Eye cut in, his magical eye swiveling in all directions, apparently scanning for danger. "Come on then, we haven't got all day. Might be others following us. Eleven more stops and we'll be there."

Harry nearly fainted on the spot. _"Eleven?"_

"Alastor, I think we can stop at five or so. Harry's still weak and we should really get to Padfoot's as soon as possible…"

Harry opened his mouth, about to argue that he was feeling just fine, then thought better of it. He closed his mouth and looked at Moody, who was glaring at Lupin.

"Eight stops, you never know who might be following."

"Six," said Lupin, now bargaining.

"Seven, then," growled Moody, "As long as we leave immediately! I suppose we can leave Norway and Japan off our list of stops…"

And so Harry found himself, at last, standing outside a dingy, broken-down house in what was perhaps one of the worst neighborhoods he had ever seen in his life. Harry wrinkled his nose and fought down the urge to vomit as the pungent smell of rotting rubbish drifted from the bulging pile of bin-bags just inside the broken gate. Never before had he ever smelled anything so disgusting; well, except one of Fred and George's mega-dungbombs.

"This is Padfoot's house?" asked Harry, nose still wrinkled from the stench.

"No, we're not there yet," Moody muttered, then thrust a small slip of paper at Harry, "Read quickly and memorize."

Taking the paper, Harry looked down at vaguely familiar handwriting that said:

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask earlier. What's the Order of the--" Harry began.

"Not here, boy!" snarled Moody. "Wait till we're inside!" After which he promptly grabbed the slip of paper from Harry's fingers and lit it on fire with the tip of his wand. Tiny slips of curling black paper fell to the ground, accompanied by ashes.

Harry looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.

"But where's--?"

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Lupin quietly.

Harry thought, and as soon as he had reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, a filthy door suddenly squeezed itself up between numbers eleven and thirteen. It was followed by grimy walls and windows, and before Harry knew it, the houses to either side had been shoved apart and a new house now stood in front of them.

"Wow," said Harry, staring up at the house that hadn't been there before..

"Enough dawdling on the doorstep," said Mad-Eye, shoving Harry forward and up the ancient stone steps, "We don't know how many people might be watching!"

A silver door knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent stood out against the chipped black paint of the door, glinting in the morning sunlight. Harry had the sudden unpleasant sensation that he was back in the Chamber of Secrets. There didn't, however, seem to be any keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin stepped up and tapped the door once with his wand-- Harry heard several loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Step inside quick, but don't go far inside and don't touch anything," whispered Lupin to Harry, who hesitantly stepped over the threshold into what would have been almost total darkness to any normal human but to Harry was no problem; he could see in the dark almost as well as in the daylight. Ancient peeling wallpaper and a threadbare, filthy carpet bordered a long hallway where a cobwebby, serpent-shaped chandelier hung menacingly overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. A candelabra shaped like multiple venomous snakes intertwined stood on a rickety table nearby.

Harry heard multiple somethings scurrying beneath the baseboard, and the scratching of insects could be heard both in the ceiling and the walls. The smell of dust and damp was almost overpowering, and Harry could immediately identify that there were several different types of molds just on the wall next to him. The sickeningly sweetish, rotting odor of decomposing organic matter saturated the air.

Then Harry heard hurried footsteps, and Ron and Hermione emerged from the battered doorway at the end of the hall.

"Harry! Glad you're here, mate," said Ron as Lupin and Mad-Eye set down the rest of Harry's stuff on the rickety table, which made an ominous cracking noise and wobbled dangerously, "Come on and we'll show you the room you and I'll be sharing."

"Go on with Ron and Hermione," said Lupin, "I have some things I need to discuss with a few members of the Order before the meeting this evening. Oh, and keep your voice down in the halls."

"Why--?"

"You don't want to wake anything up."

"What d'you--?"

"Ron and Hermione will explain it to you, I really must be going, as I don't know when the person I need to speak to will be leaving."

"Ah," said Harry, then as Lupin and Mad-Eye walked through the door he turned back to Ron and Hermione. "And what did he mean by that, exactly?"

"Sirius' mum," said Ron, wincing.

"Sirius' _what?_" asked Harry in shock.

"Ron, give the whole story," said Hermione, then looked at Harry and said in a whisper, "It's a portrait of Sirius' mother. Every time someone makes a loud noise, she wakes up and starts screaming again. She's apparently been put on the wall with a permanent sticking charm-- no one can figure out how to get her off."

"She sounds… nice," said Harry, being very careful not to raise his voice above a whisper.

"She's a real whacko, that one," said Ron quietly as they made their way down the hall and past an umbrella stand that Harry had a sickening feeling was made from a severed troll's leg, "When she finds out that Sirius has let another werewolf in the house…"

"Ron!" whispered Hermione sharply.

"I don't care, Hermione," said Harry as loudly as he dared as they started up a dark staircase.

"Well, he could at least _try_ not to be so blunt…"

"I'm not blunt!" interjected Ron, and Harry mentally sighed as both Ron and Hermione started quietly bickering. Looking to the walls as they continued up the stairs, Harry was shocked to see what appeared to be the shrunken, severed heads of ancient house elves, which all seemed to have the same rather snoutlike nose, mounted on plaques on the walls.

Ron and Hermione finally stopped bickering long enough to notice where they were.

"Oh, we're the door on the right," said Ron, crossing over to the door and turning the bedroom doorknob, which seemed to be shaped like a serpent's head. The door swung open, and Harry saw a glimpse of a dark, gloomy, high-ceilinged room with twin beds before something large and white swooped down and obscured his vision, landing on his shoulder with sharp claws.

Harry yelped with surprise and threw up his arms in self-defense before he realized that it was only Hedwig. "Hedwig! How did you get up here? Weren't you downstairs with Lupin…?"

"Strange, that," said Ron, looking about as bewildered as Harry felt. Hermione had a thoughtful expression on her face. After a few seconds of awkward silence in which Harry busied himself stroking Hedwig's feathers, Harry remembered something and looked at Ron.

"I thought Lupin said that your mum had hijacked you and was forcing you to clean the house."

"She did earlier," said Ron, wincing at the memory.

Hermione continued, "But she called it off for the day when Ron was nearly eaten by an armchair while he tried to clean under the cushion."

"It had _teeth_!" said Ron, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "I swear, if this wasn't Sirius' house then I'd be gone in a second…"

"She's not making us clean tomorrow, is she?" asked Harry apprehensively as Hedwig flew back to the top of a tall, dark wardrobe.

"No, she probably won't for the next week at least. She had a fit about the chair, and it's still running rampant about the sitting room-- that's why the door's locked," said Hermione, obvious relief showing in her voice, "She's going to get Professor Moody to take care of it at some point in the next few days. Meanwhile, we have to listen to--"

At this point, what sounded like an earthquake floated up from downstairs. After a few minutes of banging and rattling, during which Hedwig started hooting in a panic and Pigwidgeon began his routine of buzzing around everyone's head like an annoying fly, the house finally quieted again.

It was a short-lived silence, however. Almost immediately after the chair stopped banging around, a horrible shrieking emanated from down the stairs. _"Mudbloods! Filth! Scum! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers--" _followed by someone shouting "Shut _up!_" and the sound of curtains being violently wrenched closed.

"--_that_," finished Hermione, looking rather weary. "With any luck, Professor Moody will have the chair out before tonight."

"Hopefully," said Harry, wincing and rubbing his ears. Even all the way up the stairs, the loudness of the racket had bothered him, and his ears were now ringing. "So… do either of you know where Sirius is?"

"Oh, yeah! He'll be wanting to see you, won't he?" said Ron, who then walked to the door. "Come on-- I think he's feeding Buckbeak…"

And so, following Hermione and Ron, Harry found himself being led up several more flights of stairs. After seeing several rather gruesome portraits of various people being decapitated, tortured, or being skinned alive, Harry decided that he'd rather not look at the walls any more. After only a couple of minutes, though, they found themselves outside a large, black, wooden door.

Turning the serpent's-head handle, Harry opened the door and looked inside, only to be thrown back onto the floor when a large black dog pounced on top of him.

"Oof! Sirius!" grunted Harry, then shoved the large dog (who was now attempting to lick his face) off of him. Standing up and brushing ancient dust off his shirt, he saw the black dog transform back into a tall man with long, dark hair. "Hello, Harry! Hope I didn't give you too much of a fright."

"Not at all," said Harry, grinning.

Hermione was glaring at Sirius. "Honestly, Sirius! He's injured!"

"I'm _fine_," said Harry before Sirius could say anything, then waved his injured arm around. "See? I can move it."

Then Ron, after glancing at his watch, gained a horrified look. "Oh, no! Sorry mate, Hermione and I have to go. We told my mum that we'd help her with lunch fifteen minutes ago!"

"See you later, Harry," said Hermione as both of them dashed back down the stairs, leaving Harry and Sirius to stare after them.

"I've been meaning to ask you-- why does your house look so…?" asked Harry, trailing off.

"Dark?" asked Sirius, "This was my parents' house. Mum and Dad weren't exactly the nicest of wizards… well, to put it bluntly, they were horrible and hated my guts. I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters-- about the only useful thing I've been able to do around here."

Harry noted the bitter note in Sirius' voice and changed the subject. "How's Buckbeak doing?"

Sirius' face lightened immediately, "He's fine! I'm sure he'd be glad to see you, if you want to go talk to him or something."

"Sure," said Harry, walking into the room. Buckbeak was laying on a large, musty rug on the floor, crunching on something that looked like a large ferret. When Harry walked in, Buckbeak looked up and made a sound of welcome.

"Hey, Buckbeak," said Harry, going over to scratch his head. "It's been a long time since I saw you last…"

And so, petting and feeding Buckbeak ferrets, Harry and Sirius talked until they were called for lunch by Mrs. Weasley.


	5. Full Moon Rising

**Author's Note:** OK, first off, I am _immensely _sorry for the long wait. I rewrote this chapter about five times until I was happy with it. I've also been paying a lot of attention to my new kitten (named Oberon, after the king of the fairies in Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night' s Dream_), as well as working on a digital painting that's been taking a long time. Nevertheless, the chapter is now finished (and it's one of the longest chapters so far), so I'll let you get on with your reading:)

Oh, and has anyone else finished _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ yet? I spent all day yesterday reading it (I got it at midnight when it came out), and finished it last night. I thought it was a wonderful end to the Harry Potter series.

Note: PLEASE review! If you do, I'll give you a cauldron cake. OK, an imaginary one, but a cauldron cake all the same. **I love constructive criticism, but please no flaming!** Flaming gets no one anywhere, now does it?

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers; I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 5: The Dream and Full Moon Rising**

"Harry! Wake up, it's almost noon and Mum says that if you don't come down for lunch soon she'll send Fred and George up here with it…"

Ron's face faded into fuzzy view as Harry groggily opened his eyes. For a minute, he couldn't seem to remember where he was or who the human with the red hair was, and then everything snapped back into place. He groaned and turned over onto his back, stuffing his face into his pillow and mumbling.

Ron's frustrated sigh floated down from above. "Listen, you don't want Fred and George coming with it-- I heard them sneaking about last night and whispering about something called a 'fizzing hiccuper.' I don't know about you, but I wouldn't risk it being placed in my sandwiches…"

Harry shoved his face deeper into the pillow-- he felt as if his eyelids and all his limbs were made of two-ton weights. "Mmph. Five m're minutes…" he grumbled, barely intelligible even to himself.

"…'highly dangerous and experimental,' they called it…"

"'m up, 'm up…" Harry managed to get out, and then wrenched himself up into a sitting position, eyes tightly shut against the glare from the window. "Could you shut that bloody thing, though?"

"Only if you promise not to go back to bed," Ron replied, crossing his arms and doing his best to give Harry a "Mrs. Weasley Glare."

"I promise," said Harry, yawning widely and reaching for his glasses. "I'll come to get lunch after I'm dressed…"

"All right then, I'll go tell Mum…" Ron said reluctantly as he walked out the door. Harry waited until Ron's footsteps were on the kitchen's tiled floor before he flumped back onto the bed and sighed.

It had been three weeks since Harry had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, and although it had been fun at times (especially when Fred and George set off their newly-invented "Flying Pig Fireworks" in the kitchen, much to Mrs. Weasley's horror), no matter what Harry did he always thought about it or acted differently… more wolf-like.

A prime example had been when, just two days after arriving, Harry discovered himself drooling over Buckbeak's dead ferrets. It had only been for a minute, but the incident had been so disturbing that Harry hadn't visited Buckbeak at feeding time since. He also discovered himself unconsciously thinking of those around him as his "pack." It was a pretty harmless thing, but a constant reminder of what he now was.

And now, in the few days before the full moon, it was all Harry could do not to start pacing around on all-fours and sleeping all hours of the day, only to discover that he couldn't fall asleep once night arrived; Harry had only just managed to go to sleep a little past five that morning.

Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley would make good on her threat, though, so he reluctantly left the soft covers to dig an old pair of oversized jeans and a baggy t-shirt out of his trunk, yawning the entire time. Hedwig hooted dolefully from atop the dresser.

"You're not tricking me-- I know you had plenty to eat last night, with all those voles you brought in. You're not getting any owl treats until tonight. Unless you _want _to get fat…?"

Hedwig indignantly fluffed her feathers, retreating back onto her perch and glaring from across the room. Harry sighed and looked into the mirror-- if anything, his hair was more out of control than ever. He ran his fingers through it, futilely trying to bring it to order, and was pleased for a moment when it looked flatter. His frown reappeared, though, as the hair popped back up to its previous position. He turned his ear to the door as he heard two people coming up the stairs, and then started down the stairs himself.

Halfway down, Harry encountered Fred and George carrying a tray full of sandwiches and a _very_ fizzy drink.

"Too late-- I'm up," said Harry, looking suspiciously at the drink, "What _is_ that, anyway?"

"Just some soda pop," Fred piped up, grinning, and George finished, "Thought you might like some."

"Actually, I feel like pumpkin juice today," said Harry, then quietly whispered, "How's the joke shop coming along?"

"Wonderful, and it's all thanks to our founder…"

"Whom we would _never _think of pranking," George grinned, surreptitiously removing the fizzy "soda" from the tray and vanishing it with his wand (Harry had also noticed-- as had everyone else-- that now that Fred and George were legally adults they had been using magic for even the smallest things).

Harry was still suspicious about the sandwiches, but took one anyway and cautiously took a bite. Once nothing out of the ordinary happened, he walked with Fred and George back down the stairs and into the dining room, sitting down at the long table with Ron.

"Where's Hermione?" He asked, suddenly ravenous despite being so tired. He plucked another cucumber sandwich from the large platter in front of him.

"Out of her mind, I reckon," said Ron through a mouthful of sandwich, "She's chasing Crookshanks all over the second floor-- he started playing with a dungbomb and set it off. She claims that he needs a bath."

"Mmmph mtph?" Harry tried to say through a huge mouthful of sandwich, and then painfully swallowed and tried again, "How does she plan to do that?"

"Dunno," said Ron, who was then picking the cucumber slices off the sandwiches and eating them plain. "I don't envy her, though… Hermione! What happened, Crookshanks didn't take too kindly to the tub?"

Harry turned in his chair in time to see a thoroughly disgruntled, scratched, and _wet_ Hermione stomp through the door and flop down in one of the chairs. Apparently he had been too busy eating to hear her coming.

"Don't. Ask." She said, then grabbed a quarter sandwich and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth. Ron and Harry stared at her for another moment before Ron shrugged at Harry and they both started to eat again.

The rest of the day seemed to last an eternity and passed in a haze. Everyone was once more dragged into cleaning the house, although Harry's mind wasn't really on it. There was one small incident with a box of wartcap powder, but no serious injuries or frights had occurred since the "chair incident," as it was now called. Several times, Harry caught himself staring off into space and had to forcibly wake himself up again.

No matter how hard Harry tried, however, he could not keep his mind off the full moon. He didn't have much of an appetite for Mrs. Weasley's stew at dinner and, much to Ron's disappointment, decided to go to bed early instead of play a game of wizard's chess.

Even though he was absolutely exhausted, Harry found that he couldn't go to sleep once he was in bed; his brain kept running through scenarios of the next night. He knew it would hurt, but other than that he didn't even have a really good idea of what would happen. The book that Lupin had given him said that even with the Wolvesbane potion, the first transformation would be the worst. It also added that the potion might not even be effective the first time.

So Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how painful it would probably be. He must have fallen asleep eventually, though, because one minute he was staring at the ceiling, and the next he was standing in a dark room. A dim, crackling fire in a dusty hearth was the only source of light.

His hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of him. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders against the dark velvet of the chair.

Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast by the fire, knelt a big, rangy man with matted gray hair and whiskers whose black Death Eater robes looked uncomfortably tight. His filthy hands had long yellowish nails. Even though Harry's sense of smell was considerably dulled, he could smell a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat and, unmistakably, of blood coming from him. He spoke unlike anyone that Harry had ever heard, in a rasping bark of a voice.

"My Lord, I regret to inform you that the Potter boy still lives…"

"So I was informed _two weeks ago _by Rookwood," said Harry in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger. "I am disappointed in you, Greyback. I would have thought that even you could complete a mission this simple. I ask you to give me one good reason why I should not kill you here and now."

"I beg your pardon, My Master, but there has been another interesting development…" Greyback paused for a moment, a wild glint flickering in his eyes. "My Lord, I believe that Potter has been afflicted with lycanthrope. I remember biting him before half the Order appeared and blasted me away."

There was a long pause. Harry slowly tapped his pale, spidery fingers against the back of the chair. A sheen on Greyback's skin in the firelight revealed that he was sweating, and he nervously ran his tongue against teeth that had been sharpened to points.

"You are sure, Greyback?" asked Harry.

Greyback paused before answering quickly, "Yes. I still had his blood on my teeth when I awakened in the morning."

"A disappointment that he is not dead, but an interesting development that I believe we can use to our advantage," said Harry, "Gather the rest of your pack, but do not make any more attempts on Potter's life until I have called you again. Stand up, Greyback."

Greyback scrambled to his feet. His face was scarred; the marks were thrown into deep relief by the firelight. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow.

"You have done well to tell me this," said Harry, "Very well… I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems… But no matter… We begin again, from now on. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, Greyback…"

"My Lord… yes, My Lord," rasped Greyback, relief evident in his voice.

"But this new development is irrelevant to the first plan. Lord Voldemort does not tolerate failure, Greyback…" Harry said. Greyback seemed to flinch back, but did not move away. "…And so appropriate punishment will be administered. _Crucio!_"

With a strangled yelp, Greyback fell to the rug, writhing in agony. His yellowed nails gripped the carpet, and he began to bleed from the mouth from biting his tongue. After a number of minutes, Harry lifted his wand and left Greyback panting and twitching on the floor.

"Let that be sufficient persuasion to ensure you don't fail me next time, Greyback… You may go."

Greyback scrambled up and scurried backward, bowing, and disappeared through a door.

Left alone in the dark room, Harry turned toward the wall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in the shadows. Harry moved toward it. His reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness. …A face whiter than a skull… red eyes with slits for pupils…

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"What?" yelled a voice nearby.

Harry flailed around madly, became entangled in the sheets, and fell out of his bed. For a few seconds he did not know where he was; he was convinced that he was about to see the white, skull-like face looming at him again, and Ron's voice spoke very near him.

"Will you stop acting like a maniac, and I can get you out of here!"

Ron wrenched the sheets apart, and Harry stared up at him in the sunlight as he lay flat on his back, his scar searing with pain. Ron looked as though he'd just been getting dressed; one arm was out of his pajamas.

"What happened? Was it a nightmare?" asked Ron, his face pale.

Harry gulped air, then forcibly made himself sit up. From the amount of light in the room, he guessed it was early morning. His scar throbbed with pain. "…He knows… He's not happy that he failed… but He says that there's going to be a new plan…"

"Slow down, mate," said Ron, sounding scared. "You're not making any sense! What are you talking about? D'you mean… did you just see You-Know-Who?"

Harry took a deep breath and forcibly slowed his breathing. "I _was_ You-Know-Who," said Harry, and he stretched out his hands and held them up to his face to check that they were no longer deathly white and long-fingered. "He was with Greyback, he's the werewolf Death Eater. He was telling Volde--"

"Don't say that name!"

"All right, then-- _You-Know-Who_-- that he had failed, but…" Harry trailed off, suddenly realizing the weight of what he had witnessed.

"But what?" asked Ron, waving his shaking hand in a motion for Harry to continue, "What did he say?"

"Voldemort knows I'm a werewolf," said Harry simply.

Understanding dawned on Ron's face, which had paled to a point where every freckle stood out in stark relief. "But that means he'll tell Lucius! Malfoy'll find a way to tell everyone at Hogwarts… you've got to tell Lupin, Harry! You-Know-Who will find some way to use it against you…"

"Yeah, I know," said Harry who, now free of the entangling sheets, was throwing on the first clothes he could find in his trunk. "But Lupin's not going to be here until later…"

"Tell Sirius, then!"

"Why d'you think I'm getting dressed?"

"Oh," said Ron, now finishing dressing too.

There was a long pause in which the only sound was the ruffling of clothes. Harry had been attempting to yank on his tennis shoes for a full two minutes before he finally succeeded with painful results; his toes were squashed in the end.

"Great," said Harry, annoyed, and began trying to pull the shoe back off his foot with little success. "First the dream, and now I've gone and outgrown my shoes in one night." The shoe finally popped off and flew across the room at Ron.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," said Harry, running over to get his shoe back. "Didn't realize it would fly quite so far…"

"It's fine," said Ron, rubbing his nose, "Mum will be able to fix your shoes with an enlargement charm, by the way."

"Thanks," said Harry, picking up his shoes and heading out the door. "I'm going to find Sirius."

Harry had barely stepped out the door, however, when he ran straight into him.

"Harry!" said Sirius, surprised, "I didn't expect you to be up quite so --"

"Sirius, I need to tell you something…" said Harry, who then recounted the entire dream. When he finally finished, Sirius was silent and had a worried look on his face.

"I'll let the others know, Harry, but don't let yourself worry about it today," said Sirius, putting what was apparently supposed to be a reassuring grin on his face, although Harry could tell that the dream had bothered Sirius immensely. "Just… get ready for tonight, rest today… I'll send a letter to Dumbledore. Don't think about the dream any more, and go eat some breakfast-- Mrs. Weasley's cooking some amazing blueberry pancakes this morning!"

"I will," said Harry softly, watching Sirius walk at an even quicker pace up to wherever he was going. Somehow, he was not at all reassured.

He ate Mrs. Weasley's pancakes that morning just to make her happy-- truthfully, he was not hungry at all and in fact felt rather ill. By the time lunch came around, it was as though he had the flu, and he resorted to just laying on one of the old mildewy couches that had been deemed safe to sit on with his eyes closed. It did nothing to help knowing that Snape would be by later with the Wolvesbane potion. Harry did not want to see Snape any more than absolutely necessary, which usually involved avoiding him until he was forced to go to his class.

He didn't even feel better when Hermione reminded him that his birthday was in two days-- "Ron's mum said she was going to make a cake, and I got you a nice present…"-- because he knew that he would probably still be sick after the transformation.

Around three o' clock, Harry heard the bolts and locks of the front door clink and rattle open and finally opened his eyes. He sat up on the couch just in time to see Lupin walk in carrying two faintly smoking goblets; Lupin looked about as bad as Harry felt.

"I thought Snape was going to bring the potion," said Harry, surprised but elated that he wouldn't have to encounter Snape while he was feeling sick.

"He was forced to hand them off to me when he had to go somewhere important, but I assured him that you wouldn't mind _too_ much," said Lupin with a faint smile while he handed Harry one of the goblets and sat down on the couch with the other. "You'll want to drink that now, get it over with… it's not very pleasant."

Harry looked at the smoking, dark brown goo with more than a little trepidation, then raised it to his mouth and took a gulp. He almost spat it right back out, but forced himself to swallow; it was even worse than polyjuice potion.

"This is disgusting!"

"Yes, it took me quite a while to get used to it myself," said Lupin, who had finished off his entire goblet with little more than a grimace, "and it's no more pleasant now than it was when I first had it. Finish it, Harry-- you'll need it."

Harry made a face at the goo, but managed to drain the goblet with one more huge gulp. His mouth and throat were burning, and it felt as though he had fire in his stomach. He shoved the still-smoking goblet back at Lupin, who took it and placed it with his own in the bag he was carrying.

"How are you feeling today, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"Terrible," said Harry, leaning on the couch arm in an attempt to settle his now-roiling stomach, "like I've got the flu."

"Well, it will get better over time," said Lupin, "This first time will be the worst."

"Where exactly are we going tonight, then?" asked Harry-- it had just struck him that he didn't know where they'd be transforming before they had Lupin's office at Hogwarts.

"Sirius told me he has a room here that will work," said Lupin, gesturing vaguely toward the stairs, "It's got a barred iron door and everything. I hate to think what it must have been used for when Sirius' family lived here, though."

Pushing several ideas out of his mind, Harry sat back up; his stomach was finally returning to normal. "That works," he said.

There was an awkward pause before Lupin spoke up again.

"Sirius told me about the dream you had last night…" Lupin started, and Harry stiffened. "Dumbledore and I discussed it, and we don't think that it's anything to worry about right now. There's nothing You-Know-Who can do at Hogwarts, and this house is guarded by a fidelus charm, so no one outside the Order knows how to get in. I think we should just take it as we go, and if you have any more dreams, Dumbledore would like to see you."

Harry nodded, relaxing once again. "What if Malfoy's been told…?"

"We'll deal with it when the time comes-- there's nothing we could do to stop him from telling people if he knew, anyway, and very few people would believe him at first." Lupin sat back, and changed the subject. "So, what's Molly fixing for dinner tonight?"

Dinner that evening was stew; Fred and George accidentally flung the entire cauldron across the table, sloshing meat and vegetables on the floor, while Mrs. Weasley yelled at them and Harry tried to focus on what he was eating instead of the few hours he had left before the full moon rose. After dinner, he started to play a game of Wizard's Chess with Ron, but was pulled aside by Lupin after his rook had been smashed to pieces by Ron's queen.

"We have to go, Harry."

Looking at the clock, Harry was shocked to see that it was already seven o' clock-- the sun was beginning to touch the edge of the horizon out the window. He looked down at the smashed pieces of his rook that littered the chessboard. "See you tomorrow, Ron," he said.

"Right, Harry…" said Ron awkwardly.

After a couple of seconds, Harry followed Lupin and Sirius out of the room. He felt as though everyone's eyes were on his back as he left. With little surprise, he realized that the room to which they were headed was downstairs instead of up. Sneezing in the amount of dust that filled the air that deep in the house, he once again ignored the gruesome pictures that had been stuck on the walls with permanent sticking charms.

"Alright, then," said Sirius, stopping at a large iron door and unlocking it with his wand, "Here we are."

The door swung open to a room that Sirius had apparently tried very hard to clean. The floor was of dark wood, and the walls were just plain concrete. A single table stood against one wall, and a small snake-shaped chandelier hanging from the ceiling provided light. There was one ancient, stained armchair in the corner. There were no windows.

"I cleaned it up as best I could," said Sirius, closing the door as soon as everyone was in and tapping it once more with his wand to lock it, "But you probably don't want to go near the back left corner-- the chair's sitting over a really nasty stain on the wood I couldn't remove…"

"We've only got five minutes until moonrise," Lupin said as he glanced at his watch, "Sirius, you'll want to transform now. Harry…" he paused, thinking of what to say, "Just sit somewhere, and relax. Don't tense up, it makes it harder… just don't worry. Oh, and you'll want to take off your shoes…"

Harry nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He found a spot against the wall to sit as Sirius put his wand into his back pocket, and finally found his voice again. "I… you're sure I won't hurt anyone?"

"Don't worry about us, Harry," said Sirius, a tight smile across his face, "I ran with Lupin across Hogwarts grounds for years, and I was fine!"

"And that was before the Wolvesbane potion," added Lupin, now sitting against the wall too. "Just don't think about it, and concentrate on yourself. You'll need all your attention to…" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Sirius, transform. My watch must be a couple of minutes slow. It's starting."

Harry was beginning to sweat, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest as hard as if he had just run a great distance. He yelped unexpectedly as a lightning bolt of pain shot through him, forcing him to close his eyes. It became harder and harder to breath as the pain increased until all Harry could see was red beneath his closed eyelids. He felt a something large and furry brush his left arm as if from far away-- Sirius, Sirius was there with him.

Harry's body began to itch all over as thick black fur sprouted from the pores on his skin, and then more pain as his mouth and nose stretched out, farther than they were ever meant to go… Harry's teeth sharpened in his mouth, a constant ache, while his ears began a painful slide up the sides of his head.

There was a sudden grinding as Harry's spine began elongating inch by painful inch, stretching Harry's pitiful human tailbone until it formed into a long, fluffy wolf tail that poked from the back of his pants. Harry let out another yelp as his arms and legs began snapping and reconfiguring their structure, and he opened his eyes long enough to watch his fingers shorten and his fingernails move to the tips to form large, black claws.

He was suddenly too big for his clothes, he was too claustrophobic… frantic, he ripped them off with his teeth, as a final shifting of his eyes made all the colors in the room change into odd combinations. Then the wolf mind bubbled up, desperate to take control, and he had one final view of the room around him, of Lupin finishing his transformation, of Sirius right next to him, before everything went black and the wolf was in control.


	6. Wolf Dreams

**Author's Note:** Before I say anything else: I'm _very_ sorry for not posting anything on this story for six months. --cringes-- I won't bore you with any excuses. I wrote this about ten times (I couldn't seem to be happy with anything I wrote-- it didn't fit), but after taking a break and reading a bunch of fantasy novels with werewolves in them, I finally managed to come up with one I'm pretty happy with. It's short, but I'll try to post the next chapter soon (which should be longer even than chapter 5). Anyways, on with the story!

As always, constructive criticism is **always** welcomed (esp. on this chapter):)

**Disclaimer**: In no way or form am I claiming Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's creations as my own. They're hers; I'm just playing with them. The story idea is mine, but everything else belongs to J.K Rowling, no matter how much I wished otherwise. Several scenes are taken directly from the books. Those aren't mine in any way whatsoever.

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**Chapter 6: Wolf Dreams**

_The black wolf lay on the floor, shivering, ears flat against his head, wide emerald eyes darting back and forth, scared. Where was he? Who was he? _What_ was he?? He knew nothing. He was new. _

_There were other things in the room, one that smelled similar to himself and another one closer to him that smelled… _different._ He couldn't say _how_ the other thing smelled different or how the other one smelled similar; there was just a sense of it being so._

_The similar-smelling one, a tan creature with four legs, a tail and a muzzle, walked closer to him, whining gently. He slowly began to crawl backwards, tripping over his own legs. He'd never had so many before. He didn't know how to walk, how to move. The different-smelling creature, a black thing that also had four legs, a tail and a muzzle, pressed close to his side. Comforting. Both smelled familiar now, triggering some memory buried deep, deep inside his brain. Kin._

_Ok. It was ok. There were others. He couldn't remember them, but they were familiar. Familiar yet… different. Older, more experienced. He was still shivering. The floor was hard, cold. The tan creature whined again, and now the black wolf knew that it was meant to comfort, to encourage. He could stand. He'd try._

_Slowly, ever so slowly, he sorted out the fact that he had four legs. Four legs like the other two. That was right. Shakily he got up, tail between his legs._

_He had a tail. Like the other two as well. Something was in the middle of his vision… he sniffed, and saw it move. It was his nose, his muzzle. He had four legs, a tail and a muzzle. He must be one of whatever the other two were. Confident now, he wagged his tail and stepped forward… to fall abruptly on his face. No, he'd been trying to walk with two of his legs. Why was he trying to walk with two of his legs? He was like the others in the place, had four. _

_Try it again. Yes, try again. He got up, took one hesitant step._

_This time he stayed upright. The tan one and the black thing wagged their tails. Yes, he belonged. The tan one walked to the side, demonstrating. He copied, succeeded. Walked across the hard, cold floor, wagged his tail again. He could do this. He walked across the room a second time, then ran across it a third. Something in his brain had clicked; moving on four legs was natural, graceful, fun…!_

_Suddenly bold, he took a running leap to land on the tan wolf who, taken by surprise, yelped as he was knocked head over heels. The black wolf leaped up, barked. This was fun! The tan wolf stood back up, growling playfully, and the tan wolf leapt on him a second time. This time when the tan wolf stood up, however, the black wolf was the one shocked as he was knocked over by the other black thing, the… the… dog!_

_He struggled to get up, but the dog was too heavy. It flashed him a canine grin before ignoring him, seeming to say _What? I'm sitting on top of someone? No, I don't think I am…

_The black wolf emitted a play-growl, then a real growl as he realized he wasn't going to be let up anytime soon. A mischievous glint appeared in his emerald eyes, and then… _Chomp!_ The dog, startled, leapt off of him with a yelp, shaking its head to relieve an aching ear that the black wolf had bitten._

_The black wolf was only able to gloat for a minute, though, before he was knocked on the head with a large tan paw. Twinkling lights danced in front of his vision for a few seconds as the tan wolf stood over him, growling a warning that clearly said _No Biting_. The black wolf whined an apology and was let up._

_He slinked over into a corner, tail between his legs, and sulked while the tan wolf settled down in the middle of the floor to sleep the rest of the night; there was nothing to hunt and the room was small. The dog whined at the black wolf to let him know that the apology was accepted, then lay down next to the tan wolf to sleep as well._

_The black wolf was only able to sulk for a few more minutes before boredom and the pull of sleep made him cross the room to snuggle up to the other two and then fade away into endless wolf dreams…_


End file.
